


Boundaries

by humbertnorth



Category: Django Unchained (2012)
Genre: Cigarettes, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humbertnorth/pseuds/humbertnorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Django and Schultz have just been united and are spending some quality time around the campfire. I always felt that Django spent a lot of time wondering about everything in minute detail and scrutinizing his surroundings in an attempt to learn from them. This piece is a reflection of that interpretation. It is basically a missing scene - fitting between their first meeting and arriving at Big Daddy's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

> I originally started planning more chapters but this still works as a oneshot.

Django did his best to keep his distance from this new master, despite his pleasantries. He sensed something different about him but at this point, it seemed ludicrous to trust any instincts left - as so many owners before Schultz had broken his finely-tuned moral compass.

They silently ate, not quite together, as Django continued to stay at arms length. Still so wary of this odd, older gentleman. “Tell me young Django, what sort of work did you do at the plantation?”

Django looked up, nearly surprised, perhaps more that he was being spoken to than the content of the question. “Mostly worked in the fields.”

“Of course, of course, but were there any...” Schultz pauses to find the right words “specific skills you acquired whilst at the Carrucan plantation?”   
Django paused to think, halting his chewing to stare at the ground “I can pick cotton pretty good” he finally replied, looking up, deadpan.

Schultz laughed heartily “I bet you can after all those years” his tone falters on the last word, feeling bad for laughing at such a terrible thing. However, Django offers a shy smile, pleased his slightly sardonic reply didn’t get him in trouble. Maybe he isn’t so bad, maybe he isn’t like the others.

Schultz thought for a moment, moving around the campfire to reach the pitcher of water near Django. After pouring some more for himself, he poured some for Django - who had resumed gorging on the generous helping Schultz had given him. Instead of going back to his ‘side’ of the fire, as it had subconsciously been decided, Schultz plonked down next to Django. 

Django slowly considered that he had never done that before. He was crossing a boundary that no one had ever stipulated, a boundary that existed none the less. His instincts simultaneously telling him to bolt and stay put. He could smell the other man’s heady aroma - smoke, gun powder and sweaty leather. The last two were more ingrain into his clothes than his skin but the smoke - musty, warm, herbal (nearly like a sharp lemon tea) - was seeping out of him. He permanently smelled like fresh tobacco, perhaps he smoked a lot more than Django realized. He pulled his tobacco pouch and papers out at that moment.

Django watched intently as Schultz carefully pinched tobacco and deposited it in a thin line on a small piece of paper. He then quickly rolled it between his fingers, licked one edge and pressed it down to seal the paper tube. He patted his pockets, searching for his matches and found them in his waistcoat. He deftly put the fresh cigarette between his lips and struck a match - slowly inhaling as the fire set the end alight. The whole simple act was like a little magic show, lightening fast hands making objects appear and disappear.

Smoke curled out and around his mouth, like a ghostly hand, caressing his face lovingly. Schultz left the cigarette in his mouth, constantly dragging in and releasing the smoke as if it were oxygen. His face was relaxed, like the tobacco was a sensual massage, draining all the stress of the day away. The smell was more potent even then, rich, bitter and full of complex flavors that floated away on the breeze.

Django felt a different type of hunger. He unabashedly had been staring at Schultz, well, his cigarette since the show began.

Schultz turned to look at Django, finally taking the cigarette from his lips and tapping the ash to the side of him. “My boy, you look...” he watched as Django’s eyes followed his hand rather than remaining on his face. “Ah. Desperate” he concluded, bringing the cigarette back up. “Would you like one?” 

“Oh no, I.” Django didn’t know how to finish, he absolutely wanted one but couldn’t bring himself to say something so honest, so true. He had grown fond of tobacco whilst on the plantation and had even been so bold as to steal some for him and Hildy to share. He had received 10 lashings for his crimes but it didn’t diminish the hunger any less. There was something oddly tantalizing about stealing the smoke from the air, the white men not able to control where it goes.

“Please, I insist” instead of making a new one, he simply handed Django the one he had been puffing from only seconds ago. He warily took it, he had never been given something so valuable before. As he watched Schultz’s magic act renew itself, the slave brought the cigarette to his lips.

It tasted so pure, so fresh. He closed his eyes to savor the taste and the feeling of the smoke. The tip was wet with saliva from the other man, an oddly intimate sensation that hadn’t even crossed his mind. It was strangely alluring, knowing this had also been between Schultz’s lips. Exhaling the smoke, he once again looked upon Schultz, who had already begun happily smoking the next cigarette.

“Thanks” he said meekly. Schultz simply smiled brightly at him. 

It wasn’t long before Django had finished the cigarette - it was really more like half a cigarette. As he stubbed out the tiny end under his boot, it occurred to him that Schultz really wasn’t like other white men, never had he been allowed to share their company, let alone their cigarettes. 

As he looked into the campfire, he saw an outstretched hand enter his peripheral vision - Schultz was once again, handing him another cigarette. Although he hadn’t expressly asked for it, he took it all the same.

After taking a long puff on it, he realized he didn’t know what the etiquette was for such a situation. Surely he couldn’t give it back now that his lips and hands had touched it. But then, it wasn’t really his to have in the first place. He agonizingly held the cigarette towards Schultz, unsure if he would want it back now. Concerned he would be chastised for thinking such a thing was appropriate.

Instead he took it swiftly from Django’s hand, their fingers brushing in an odd way as it was passed between them. Without so much as a second thought, the other man brought it straight to his mouth and took a big pull on the cigarette. 

Django was shocked to say the least. 

Shocked more when he held it out again for Django to take.

Now he was positive Schultz wasn’t like any man he had ever met.


End file.
